I Don't Care if You're Contagious
by missmaggiemaybe
Summary: How is Violet suppose to forgive Tate for damning her soul to a lifetime of loneliness? She told him to go away, but he knew she did not mean it. There is something about the darkness which whispers to both of them, but who will it claim first?
1. Chapter 1

_****_**A/N: I do not own American Horror Story or the song this is named after, that belongs to Pierce The Veil. I just recently got really into American Horror Story. I immediately became fixated with Tate and Violet. I love the darkness within Tate and the volatile love story which unfolded between the young lovers. I knew I needed to write a fan fiction about, something dark and interesting. So here is my hard work splayed out for the world to read. I must admit my favorite AHS Violate authors are applythepressure and Lovely Helena. I hope to someday be as talented as those amazing writers. So, please enjoy my first AHS Violate fan fiction. Reviews make me happy as a clam too. Without further ado...enjoy!  
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_**"Time is what we want most,but what we use worst."**_  
**― William Penn**

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Forever did not seem long at all when she took the time to consider she had already been dead for almost twenty years. Two decades had passed since she thought life was impossible to handle and took handful after handful of colorful pills. She did not remember how she died, she could only recall the weight of the tiny pills in her hand. They were tiny harbingers of death, waiting for her to gather the courage and swallow them all at one time. However, she took them two at a time until the world started to fade away. The darkness called to her, it taunted her so nicely with promises and wishes. But all she received was being trapped in this house for a lifetime –forever, to be exact – because when you died in this house, you were never allowed to leave.

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She hadn't known she was dead until her parents tried to vacate her from the house. They told her to pack all of her belongings because they were going back home, LA had been a mistake. Her parents realized a move cross country would not repair their damaged marriage or bring back their stillborn child. The house had taken away all of the light from their small family and left behind gaping wound of darkness. Her mother held her by the waist and led her down the stairwell, promising the family would be much happier when they had returned to New England. She was so close to being free when the door opened and... she was standing back in her bedroom.

He stood there with a smirk plastered on his angelic face, blonde curls covering his big, brown eyes. "Were you thinking of going somewhere?" he asked, slowly taking steps towards her.

She tried to step back, but he matched her until he had her pinned against the door. He smiled in that way of his, tilting his head to look into her eyes.

"I am leaving," she whispered, afraid of what he would do if she looked into his eyes. She focused on her worn moccasins and waited for him to disappear the way he usually did. But he stayed, placing his hands on either side of her slender frame and waiting for her to elaborate. There was no anger in his eyes, only twisted amusement. It seemed as though he was in on a secret she didn't even know she had.

He laughed, his body shaking with glee. He had to steady himself with both hands to stop his laughter from causing him to topple both of them over. She had no idea because he had not told her. He had kept the secret hidden deep inside, hoping she would not have to find out this way.

"I couldn't save you," he finally spoke, the laughter diminished and solemness took its place. "I tried so hard...but it was too late. I didn't want to you find out this way. Because I didn't think you would ever want to leave me." He traced his fingers over the bare skin of her upper arm, hoping to distract her.

She shook her head vehemently, sinking to the floor with fear. He grabbed her with his strong arms and sat down with her. Her body shook with silent sobs as he cradled her, still shaking her head to deny what he had just told her.

"You're dead now. And you will never get to leave," he whispered. "I love you. Now we can stay together forever like we had always wanted.I tried to save you… I did. I tried to make you throw them threw up some, not enough. You took so many, Violet. You died crying. I held you. You were safe. You died… loved. "

Dead. Her suicide attempt had been a success, but she did not remember dying. She recalled the cold water and the way he made her vomit up the pills. It had not been enough though because she was dead. She would remain a perpetual fifteen year old, trapped inside this hell hole for all of eternity.

This was his fault. He had fucked with her mind so much, she had nowhere else to turn. She thought death would be her escape, but she would forced to see him forever.

Unless...

She pushed him away with her small hands, watching the hurt fill his eyes. With every ounce of strength left her body, she looked him in the eye.

Tears began to freely fall from his eyes, waiting for her to speak. He was terrified of what she would say, what she would do, and how he would handle the aftermath.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was different then," he pleaded.

"Yeah," she nodded, trying to fight back tears of her own. "I used to think you were like me. That you were attracted to the darkness. But Tate, you **are** the darkness."

"No," he shook his head and licked his lips. The tears had stopped and he tried to reach out to her. "Before you, that's all there was. You're the only light I've ever known. You've changed me, Violet."

She slowly exhaled and looked into his tear stained darkened eyes, wishing she could believe what he saying. "I believe that," she said, eliciting a small smile from him. She stroked his cheek gently. "I love you, Tate. But I cannot forgive you. You lied to me. I am dead."

"No!" he screamed, closing his eyes to fight back the reemerging tears.

"Yes! You need to pay for what you have done, all of the pain and sorrow you caused. My parents now have lost both of their children. How am I supposed to tell my mother I will never grow up and get married? This is all your fault. Stuck here forever because of you. As long as I am damned to roam this earth, I will never forgive you. Ever. I can't be with you. I can't look at you."

She turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest to protect herself. With a deep breath, she stood up and walked towards the door. Her followed her, reaching his hand out as though he would be able to stop her. Each step she took, he followed.

"What are you saying?" he asked, not really wanting to hear her answer.

She looked at him with all the anger and hate she could muster, her body shook from the weight of the emotion. She tried to steady herself by wrapping her arms around herself. Suddenly, her woolen cardigan did not seem to keep the chill overwhelming her body. It was like the darkness was trying to force its way into her.

He looked so angelic with his blonde curls and sweet eyes, his tall frame clothed in a faded Nirvana tee and ripped jeans. His tears shattered the little pieces of her heart that were left, but she refused to let him manipulate her any longer.

"I'm saying, go away!" she hissed at him, placing her hand on the doorknob.

He blinked for a moment, tears streaming down his face. He did not want to believe what she was about to say. When he told her to make the ghosts who frightened her disappear, he never anticipated he would fall under the category.

He shook his head, pleading. "Please, no. Don't do this. I am sorry! I am. I never meant to hurt you. Don't fucking do this to me!"

"GO AWAY, TATE!" she screamed with everything she had.

He screamed back with his eyes closed in anger, feeling the darkness seeping into him and coursing through his veins. "You're all I want! You're all I have!"

She began to cry, but screamed, "Go away!"

Expecting him to be gone, she opened her eyes. Instead, she found him watching her with an amalgamation of hatred and hurt in his eyes.

"You can't make someone disappear if you don't really want them gone. Lesson one," he retorted, closing the gap between them. "And I promise you, you will pay for that dearly, my love."

With that, he vanished. She was left alone to wonder what to say to her parents and what he had in store for her.

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Define psychopath, would you? Could it be considered the man who raped and sodomized a young girl, skinned her alive, and then consumed her flesh for his pleasure? Or it could it possibly be the young man with angelic blonde locks and longing eyes who murdered fifteen people who never even had the chance to live?

It is difficult to point the finger at someone and define them with medical terminology and confine them to some kind of stifling label. The term psychopath is not easy to define. The medical definitions delve into personality, environment, and other external and internal contributing factors. A psychopath is someone who has a personality disorder in which they have very cursory emotions, lack empathy, have coldheartedness, possess superficial charm, are highly manipulative, very erratic in behavior, show tendencies towards criminality and engage in anti social behaviors.

Both are now dead, but only one felt remorse. He could not live what he did. In the dark of the night, he would hear sobbing and see shadows looming out of the corner of his eye. He began to leave all of the lights on at night to prevent the shadows from creeping over his shoulders, but the sobbing would not go away. He would hear it while he slept, when he gazed through the slats of his old blinds to spy on his neighbors, and then the shadow came for him. It was the little girl with her skin all gone, telling him he would pay for his sins.

The other one? He knows what he did. He could even admit it if you asked him. But Tate Langdon never felt remorse. Not for the young people he killed. For the gay couple he murdered. In fact, he usually did not feel much of anything.

Violet Harmon changed him though. She made the psychopath feel there was light at the end of the winding tunnel. He thought she would his forever, but she told him to go away. She didn't mean it, but he knew Violet needed space so he vanished for awhile.

When you had forever, there was more than enough time to plan revenge. If you asked him, Tate would tell you revenge was one of his favorite games. Time to make a move, Tate smiled to himself. Violet Harmon would rue the day she ever tried to get rid of Tate Langdon.

Let the game begin.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Author spiel:I just wanted to say thanks to applythepressure for all the kind words and encouragement to continue my writing. Talking to you has been an invaluable gift, so thank you. **

**Well, here is the second chapter. This is when it starts to get dark and twisted. Thanks for the follows and favorites, they mean a lot to me.  
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**I own nothing.  
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"Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift."  
― Mary Oliver

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Childhood fears tend to vanish by adolescence. The need for a night light or monster check under the bed is long vanished because one begins to realize there is nothing to fear in the darkness. Some embrace the darkness, listening to its gentle whispers in the night and waiting for the first soft caress it will place upon their cheek. It comes like a secret lover, gentle and sweet. The darkness is always patient because it knows there will be no other option besides claiming the willing victim. Perhaps the word victim is poor diction- call them a participant. The participant enjoys the dangerous secrets and thrills from the darkness until it consumes them whole, like a ravenous venus flytrap.

Others never get over their crippling fear, leaving lights on so they can see into every nook and cranny. They place religious artifacts throughout their homes, crucifixes and watchful cherubs. Those people light candles at mass and pray for God to defeat the darkness. They seek solace and protection in the light, remaining like a small child afraid of the boogey man trapped in the dark, dank basement.

The darkness loves to claim souls, burying them in shallow graves filled with bitter memories and loneliness.

Night was more deadly than most realized.

Tate thought it amusing to watch the way she slept with the light on all the time now. He would watch her sleeping, her chest rising and falling as though her heart still beat and air flowed through her lungs. She would mumble in her sleep, clutching the duvet close to her small body with her light chestnut hair sprawled around her porcelain face.  
His fingers twitched with longing, wanting to feel her soft skin and lose himself inside of her. There was only light for him when she was around. Otherwise, the darkness began to whisper in his ear. It replayed every bad thing he had every done, causing the adrenaline to shoot through his veins with purpose. Then he would see her, pure and innocent. Tears would pool in the corners of his eyes, and Tate knew he would not be able to hurt Violet. Something inside of him was good when he was in her presence. Although she was already dead, he could not envision watching her die a second time.

But he promised he would seek revenge. She was paralyzed with fear by the thought of him. Violet was expecting Tate to harm her. It made him uneasy to give his only love such a negative connotation of himself. He had simply been angry, speaking his words before considering their impact. Now, there was seemed to be a disconnect between Violet's love for Tate and her gripping fear of his psychopath status.

Tate had tried to save her, but she had taken too many of those colorful devils. There had not been enough time to force his fingers down her throat and cause her to vomit up the pills. The freezing, harsh water piercing her skin had not been enough either. She was gone, but he wanted to protect her. Tate had hidden the body and let her believe she was still alive. How could he have been aware her parents would try to rip her away from the house and from him?

Violet suddenly jerked awake, clutching the blanket against her body and scanned the room fearfully. Her eyes settled on the visitor at the foot of her bed and almost involuntarily, she began to scream, "Go away! Go away!"

Tate shook his head, placing his fingers over his lips and going, "Shh. Shh. Please, Violet. I am not here to hurt you. I wanted to apologize for what I did. But I was trying to protect you. The way you feel towards me has changed. You are fearful, distant. I know you must hate me, but I needed to apologize. I was trying to protect you. I only wanted to tell you that. So I will leave you alone if it is your wish. Because I love you more than anything and only wanted to make you happy."

Violet blinked for a moment, trying to process the words coming from her true love's beautiful lips. She could feel her body quivering with fear, but she was fixated on his lips. The way he kissed her and the other ways he used his lips on her. She wanted to feel his slightly chapped lips against her and trace her fingers through his soft blonde curls.

He walked over to the side of the bed and sat the edge by her feet. He exhaled deeply and waited for Violet to scorn him. Tate had not prepared for her to slowly drop the duvet and crawl over to him. Violet pulled him onto the bed, forcing Tate onto his back. She tilted her head to study him, studying the shadows beneath his brown eyes and his uncombed curls. Tantalizingly slow, Violet lifted her leg over him to straddle her lover. He groaned when her knee brushed the stiffness in his jeans, grabbing her hips to feel her against him.

"I love you," she whispered. "But I still can't forgive you." She kissed him hard, teasing his tongue with hers. "You still need to pay for what you have done, Tate. I promise you I will always love you, but you need to earn my forgiveness."

Tate moaned and cupped Violet's soft curves. "I will do anything for you, Violet. You are the only light I have. I don't want you to get swallowed by the darkness again. Save me, Violet. Change me..."

Violet nibbled his eye, her breath tickling his neck. "Show me where my body is."

Tate froze. "Violet, no. Please. Don't make me –"

The girl before him went from lustful to vengeful in less than ten seconds. She slapped his hands away vigorously and spat, "Then get the fuck out of my room. Get the fuck out of my life, Tate. I hope you rot in hell where you fucking belong."

Tate reached out for Violet as she lifted himself off him, rushing over to the desk with the chalkboard in front of it. The young girl had a mission and wasted no time opening the bottom drawer of the desk. She pulled out a small box, holding it in her small hands like a lifeline.

He pushed himself off the bed and watched her. "What are you going to do, Violet?"

Violet deliberately opened the box carelessly, cutting herself with one of the razor blades which fell out. Her skin was sliced open quickly, the blood rushing to the surface. Before Tate could stop her, she gripped a blade in her hand and placed it upon her skin. In an act to interfuse the blade with her body, she shoved the blade into her body with fervor. She cut again and again, tearing away pieces of skin from her body and watching them fall to the floor in bloody clumps. It as though she was trying to tear all the skin off her forearm before Tate's furious gaze.

He vanished for a second and appeared behind her, ripping the blade from her hand and casting it aside. "You promised me," Tate said with an eerie calm over him. He reached over and took her arm, carefully bringing it to his lips. With his eyes never leaving hers, he ran his tongue over the wounds and blood. His tongue lapped up the red liquid slowly as her body began to heal itself.

Her eyes filled with horror and fascination at the events unfolding before her. Tate was drinking her blood again and her body was healing itself. "I don't...the cuts...where are they? Where are the scars?"

Tate gripped her arm. "When you are dead, there is nothing which can harm you again. Violet, you can mutilate yourself until you skin yourself. But it will always heal. And I will always be here to stop you. Forever."

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Violet needed to see what was left of her corpse. She needed the confirmation she was dead, and there was not chance of being saved. The darkness swirled around the murder house, causing all of the occupants to be irritable. The twins broke more things, Hayden slit Travis's throat three times, and Violet kept carving out pieces of her flesh.

She would carve them out and place them in neat little piles, shocked when they vanished the moment she blink. All night she had sat outside, looking the stars while cutting herself apart.

If Tate wasn't going to show her what she needed to see, Violet would find it herself. She would also keep muilating herself because she knew how much he hated it. Tate needed to pay, right? Then what better way to watch the girl he loved cut herself to the bone day after day, removing her flesh as a pleasurable activity?

Tate had spoken about revenge, but it seemed Violet was more adept at actually carrying out the process.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: Thanks to applythepressure for all of the encouragement as always. Your words mean more than you will ever know. **

**Reviews make me not hate myself.  
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"Lies and secrets, Tessa, they are like a cancer in the soul. They eat away what is good and leave only destruction behind."  
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

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There is something unsettling about the way lies and secrets tend to burrow into people's lives. It usually begins small, like not telling someone the shirt they are wearing is unflattering. A small, harmless white lie to protect the person. Secrets usually begin in early childhood. With palms clasped over small mouths to prevent the news from spreading to the unwanted, children exchange secrets. A secret about the noises mommy and daddy make at night or about why everyone now hates Janie Woodman. The small and innocent secrets and lies seem like nothing at first until they escalate and develop a life of their own. A small secret becomes a monstrosity, no one can know the way someone cuts gashes into their skin and prays for death everyday. The lie becomes, "I'm fine."

Secrets and lies may have been the downfall of Violet Harmon. She had no idea what was real, who she was, and how she was supposed to process everything happening around her. The cutting gave her clarity and control when she still mutilated her body. Her suicide was supposed to make all of the confusion and sadness vanish. But Tate kept the secret from her, trying to protect her. His attempt to save her had been futile, the pills had done their job and taken away his light in the fucked up world. But she had no idea. Now, she was torn.

Tate needed to pay for everything he had done.

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But what about the gaping hole inside of her unbeating heart which craved his touch and longed for the sound of voice?

"You are such a whiny little bitch. I am getting so fucking sick of your "woe is me" act. Either grow some balls or quite crying. It is starting to get on my last. Fucking. Nerve."

Violet looked up and saw Hayden standing in the doorway. Her father's fuck buddy had the bitchiest grin plastered on her hideous face and was playing with a kitchen knife in her hands. The blade caught a glint of the light, reminding Violet of the razor blades she used to try and cut all of her skin away from the bones in her small body.

Hayden stepped into the bedroom holding the knife in her hands, examining the sharpness and length. Thoughts of slitting Violet's throat filled her with glee, but she was not in the mood to deal with the resident psychopath on this particular day. Something had changed in the house. Before, he would watch from afar and wish Violet would speak to him. Now, if anyone dared to get close to the young girl, Tate's wrath would rain down worse than hell fire. Hayden was amused by it though. She wanted to see how far she could push Tate, see if he would give into her and finally let her fuck him. All of that crazy had to mean he would be an amazing fuck, right?

Violet stood up and walked over to Hayden. The past few days of trying to skin herself dead had brought a darkness and edge to Violet, she was no longer terrified of the girl with the horse face she would be forced to live with for eternity. Hayden actually pissed Violet off, she had tried so hard to ruin the Harmon family and almost been successful. Violet refused to let Hayden scare her anymore. She would show her exactly whom got on whose last fucking nerve. The voice in her head, so gentle and soft whispered to her. It told Violet to make Hayden go away, to revel and enjoy the blood which would emerge from her body...

Hayden stepped back, placing the knife behind her back as a precaution. "Are you waiting for baby psycho to come save you? Be your little knight in black latex?" She teased, each word filled with venom.

Violet smiled and shook her head. "I don't need Tate to protect me. I am not scared of you anymore, Hayden. You are like an incessant gnat which buzzes around and won't shut up. I am going to shut you up."

Hayden raised a curious eyebrow, waiting for Violet's move. Before she had the chance to get out her clever retort, Violet had stolen the knife Hayden had been wielding. Violet laughed at the shocked look on the Murder House's resident whore's face and twirled the knife around her hand like a baton.

"Now, what were you saying about me being a whiny little bitch? Because all I can remember you doing for the past two decades is never shutting your mouth. Crying over a baby you only would have fucked up worse than anything else and trying to get my father to fall in love with you. Getting pity fucks from Travis every so often and trying to dig your talons into Tate. You have been way fucking worse. You want people to feel bad for you, but all you do is cause destruction every place your feet tread. You eat away what little goodness exists in this house and leave nothing but destruction behind. And I am done with it," Violet emphasized, taking the knife and jamming the blade into Hayden's abdomen.

Hayden gasped in surprise and watched the crimson liquid spread across her stomach. Violet twisted the knife around and drove it deeper, feeling better as the knife penetrated the soft insides of the woman she detested. Then for a little bit of fun, Violet drug the blade upwards and gave Hayden's heart a few good stabs.

Hayden collapsed to the floor in a bloody mess, while Violet tossed the knife on top of her body. She looked down at the blood and was intrigued. Never before had she been so fascinated by the red liquid.

"Violet, no. Stop! Violet!"

She looked up and saw Tate standing before her, his deep brown eyes filled with sadness. His blonde hair looked angelic against the sun shining from the window behind him and she wanted to feel the warmth of the holey brown cardigan he was wearing.

Tate stared at the body on the floor and said, "Go away, Hayden." The body vanished, leaving behind the now blood free knife as the only evidence of what Violet had done.

Violet was now shaking from the adrenaline pumping through her body, watching Tate with ravenous eyes. "I wanted her to leave me alone for good..." Violet began, her voice sounding like a small child who ate too many cookies from the cookie jar. "I only wanted her to hurt the way I did. There was this little voice which said it would be fun to stab her and watch the life flow out of her."

He said nothing for a long time, pondering the statement Violet had just made. Tate understood what she was saying better than anyone else ever could, but he did not want Violet to be tainted by the darkness for all of eternity. He needed to save her, help the only thing he loved find her way back to the light and goodness she used to exude from her beautiful being.

Violet stepped over to Tate and wrapped her arms around him. She buried her face into his soft, worn sweater and whispered, "The darkness is so welcoming, Tate..."

He stiffened at her words, stroking her hair and silently vowing to destroy the darkness slowly seeping into Violet's very being before it was too late.

* * *

"Show me," she begged.

He hesitated. "I am not sure if that is such a good idea right now."

She frowned, turning to look at him. They were lying on the floor, tangled limbs and stolen kisses between them. "I thought you were done keeping secrets from me."

"I am not keeping secrets, Vi. I just don't know if right now is the best time to show you. I don't want to overwhelm you..."

She scoffed, pulling away from him. "Lies. You lie and keep secrets from me. You don't love me."

"I don't love you?" he echoed, smirking. "everything I have done for you and I don't love you? Funny how that seems to work in your mind. I care about you more than myself. All I have done is to try to protect you!"

Tate smiled. "Then show me."

He sighed, standing up. He offered a hand to help her up. "Fine. Let's go.

She stood up with his help and hugged him. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, preparing himself to show Violet her rotting corpse hidden beneath the floor boards in a neat little crawl space, covered with flies and giving off the stench of decay.

Tate could not wait to replay her death in his mind again.

Violet was distracted by the darkness whispering in her ear, telling her, "Someday he will pay for telling lies and keeping secrets."

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**A/N: I like reviews so I know what people like or don't. They make me happy.**


	4. Chapter 4

"If you have to dig to find yourself, you are probably dead."  
― Jarod Kintz

Nothing can change death. There is no way he could go back decades and erase the bullet riddled bodies strewn across Westfield's hallowed halls or the ones which brought upon his own his demise. Nor could she go back and regurgitate all the tiny pills she forced down her larynx. Both had to live with the aftermath forever. There was no escape from this wretched house, filled with damned souls and an overwhelming darkness.

Tate had hoped he would be able to keep the secret of her being dead from Violet for a long time. He coaxed her with kisses and promises of spending their days playing games to distract her from attending her classes. It was impossible to foresee her parents urgency to vacate the Murder House and head back to their beloved East Coast. Now, they believed their daughter was experiencing a terrible rebellious face and were unsure how to make her leave the house. If only they knew Violet would only be able to leave one day a year, and she would be forced to return when the dawn of the next day began.

Violet needed the affirmation she was really dead. It was hard to feel dead when she could look in the mirror and she herself as she had every day. She looked no different. The only anomaly arose when it came to self mutilation. She tried her hardest to quicken the blade against her alabaster skin with the same results. The blood would vanish, and there would be no trace of the wounds she had created just moments before. Violet had grown accustomed to the scars which danced across her arms, the taste of copper on her fingertips as she licked off the excess blood. Feeling dead was difficult when one doesn't know what it feels like to really be alive.

So, when she begged Tate, "Show me." Violet was more than ready to be shown she was dead and possibly feel as though she had lived some kind of worthwhile life when she had blood pumping through her veins and air flowing through her lungs.

Violet lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out of her mouth in little rings. She smiled at the way they rose towards the ceiling and faded away. Tate laid sprawled out of the bed next to her with his hands crossed over his chest, he watched her with cautionary eyes and waited for his lover to speak.

"What?" Violet questioned with her attitude, inhaling the carcinogen filled smoke. Not that it mattered. She could not get cancer since she was already dead. Fuck, she could do whatever the hell she wanted. Nothing could kill her now.

"Do you trust me?" Tate asked, choosing his words carefully. He wanted to show Violet she had no reason to believe he was lying or hiding things from her. He better than anyone knew how manipulative the darkness could be. How it took over and destroyed everything until it was too late to salvage anything.

Violet examined his face and smiled, blowing more smoke through her lips. "I trust you more than anything in the world. I love you," she added, leaning over to kiss him softly.

He relished in the taste of nicotine on her lips and then pulled away. "I am going to show you now, Violet. Then you are free. Free from being tethered to me. We may have to spend forever in this house, but I won't force you to stay with me if it isn't what you want anymore. I will leave you alone if you want. I won's stop you, I promise."

Violet finished her cigarette, opening the window to toss the butt outside. She ran her hands through her long hair and replied, "I am ready, Tate."

She accepted his outstretched hand and followed him wordlessly down the hall, the staircase, and all the way into the wretched basement. Tate held her hand as though he would never get another chance and hold she would be able to handle what she was about to see. He was aware she may banish him after she saw, but he promised he would not stop her. Tate loved Violet, so he always wanted to place her before himself.

They ended up in a small room where Tate pulled on a string to illuminate the darkness. Violet gasped at the small door in the wall, watching as Tate pulled a chair to climb inside and slowly opened the small, creaky wooden door. There was only darkness and a foul odor which emerged from the small crawl space. He turned on the old flashlight hidden inside the entrance and then held out his hand to help Violet inside.

Violet looked back at the basement for a moment, wondering if her parents were wondering why she was down here when she was supposed to be at school. She rubbed her forehead to clear away the lightheadedness, the odd sensation she was going to pass out.

"Am I losing my mind?" she asked, walking over to climb onto the chair.

Tate only replied, "Come on" and helped her into the small tunnel. He led the way, using the flashlight to guide him. It was apparent to Violet he had been in the small confined space before, he seemed to know it like the back of his hand.

Violet crawled behind him, noting all the dust and broken windows leaning against the wall. She want to cringe at the dirt seeping under her nails and how the cement floor was wearing holes in the knees of her favorite tights. Tate turned and flashed the light on her for a second, but said nothing. He kept moving with purpose towards what he needed to show Violet, waiting to see how she was going to react.

Her hand suddenly brushed against a human skull and she screamed. She crawled faster, muttering, "This is place is so vile."

Tate stopped at a ledge and climbed down, then helped her. He told her, "This way" and moved forward a few paces.

Violet followed him, hoping she was not going to lose herself with this faintness overcoming her being.

Tate looked at her with sadness and moist eyes, "Close your eyes, Violet. Please. Everything will work out, alright? Please don't forget I love you." He briefly smiled and took her hand. She followed him with curiosity and fear, watching as they finally stopped.

Violet squeezed his hand and closed her eyes.

Tate took a deep breath and said, "Okay, open your eyes."

Violet opened her eyes and stepped forward to look down the ledge where his flashlight shone. Her body shook and as she looked, terrible screams began to rise from her lungs.

The only problem was there was no much left of Violet's body. She had been dead for twenty years, rotting and festering the crawl space. Violet was becoming confused and lost in memories of the past.

Tate was unsure of what was happening to her, but perhaps showing Violet her remains and explaining to her how much time had passed – things would start to make sense again and they could

return to living some semblance of happily ever after.

He remembers the first time he took a flashlight into his hands and guided Violet through the dark, musty crawlspace. Dirt and decay of the house covered him and Violet as they journeyed towards the only thing he never wanted her to witness. Tate loved her, and he never wanted to hurt Violet. His willingness to do anything for her encompassed staging an elaborate suicide so she would believe they both died, she would believe they had died together and had been happy.

"I didn't want you to find out this way, Violet. You or your parents. I had this idea that if you *chose* to die... with me... you wouldn't be so sad. I never wanted you to see this. I'm so sorry, Violet."

There was something going on with Violet. Nothing was making sense anymore. The darkness had stuck its talons inside of Violet, sucking out her purity and leaving behind tainted evil.

But why was she reliving an event that happened two decades ago?

Violet kept screaming, not sure what she was really seeing. She screamed and her body convulsed violently. "No! NO! NOOO!" she repeated.

Tate gazed at her, wishing there was an easy way to do this. "Don't you understand, Violet? That is you down there. That is all is left of you –"

"Bodies don't decay that fast! Who is that?!" she demanded.

Now, something had snapped within Violet's mind and she thought they were back in 2011. She believed her parents were still around, and she had just died. Tate could not fathom why Violet was regressing back two decades to the day she found out she was dead.

"Tell me!" she demanded.

This time, he had no answer for the girl with the beautiful hair and ripped tights staring at him with so much hate in her eyes.


End file.
